Novel Treatments / Untitled Historical Romance - Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Victoria’s Secret was never more fun than Lacey’s first introduction to the English countryside.  Just watching the landscape from the window of the elegant coach was a delight.  Horse drawn carriages, dirt roads, street vendors selling bread, dirty urchins playing unknown games, and the dresses.  Oh, the dresses.  The wonders she saw in the twenty minute ride put any period film to shame, leaving Lacey thirsty for more.

The carriage glided to a stop; Lacey threw the door open, and Zebediah dove from the carriage, anxious to bark at the horses standing regally by the walkway.  Without thought, Lacey grabbed her skirts and joined her overanxious pet.  She didn’t expect the shocked expression on the livery boy’s face, nor the quick admonition she received from Margaret.  The head of the household stepped forward, leaving Amy to whisper instructions for future etiquette.

The dressmaker’s shop was foreign to anything Lacey had seen in a mall.  The first room was piled with fabrics, stacked precariously high in some areas.  A colorful array of fabric spread before the eye, enticing the shopper to spend money.  Two women hustled from a curtained room and clucked in approval of the full shop.  One stepped forward.  “Lady Byington-Averton, I did not think to see you again so soon.”  The speaker immediately spotted the unfamiliar face, and skated graciously toward the new victim.  “Ahh, I see.  I see,” she said, as if she saw the purpose for their visit.  “This is your niece, no?” she asked in the worst French accent Lacey ever heard.

“Mimi, this is indeed my niece, Lady Lacey.  We are in desperate need of your talent, and quickly, as the Season is due to begin in mere weeks.  See what miracles you can perform,” Distracted, Margaret touched various silks and satins in the wake of her instructions.  “We need everything, a complete wardrobe.”

Mimi examined Lacey from head to toe; she twirled her finger, an unspoken desire for her to turn.  After several moments, Lacey glanced back and found Mimi scribbling notes.  “So many possibilities, so little time,” she said to no one in particular.  “May I have free reign to design as I see fit?” she turned to Lady Byington-Averton for approval.

“I believe it a necessity, as you will soon discover.”  Margaret chose her words carefully, hesitating on the last word.

“There is some problem I cannot see?  Oh dear, oh dear.  Come, come.  Follow me Lady Lacey, we must uncover the flaw so I can correct it through clever design.”  Listening to Mimi speak reminded Lacey of a stuck record; you still wanted to hear the song, but kept hoping the ‘skip’ would go away.  

Mimi shuffled her through the curtained area.  “Off—off with your clothes, and let us see the obstacle.”

Zebby sat in the corner and watched quietly from his throne as Lacey was stripped from the heavy garment.  She studied the room while the dressmaker examined her.  The backroom was undoubtedly any shopper’s dream come true.  Surrounded by dresses in various stages of completion, every color, trim, pattern, and texture was present.  Each evening gown was more delightful than the next, and Lacey sighed in apparent pleasure.

“Oh, my dear…” Mimi started, leaving the rest unsaid.  She produced a measuring tape, and set to work.  As she jotted unknown notes, she sighed.  “I am brilliant with the needle, my dear.  Have no concern for that which Mother Nature chose to give you.  I will figure something out,” she said offhanded, continuing to scribble notes.

“I beg your pardon,” Lacey said, finally finding her voice.  “I happen to love my figure and I see nothing wrong with what ‘Mother Nature chose to leave me.’  It looks like she could be a little more generous with you.”  She clapped a hand to her mouth as soon as the hasty words escaped.

Mimi considered Lacey’s words.  Long seconds passed, and Mimi chuckled.  “I will make you the Belle of the Season, and you will make me a rich woman.  All the wallflowers will bring their mamas to me, begging for creations such as yours.  Just leave the details to me, my dear.  You will be the best dressed Lady on the market.”

Lacey redressed slowly, absorbing the latest turn.  “We need three day gowns, two evening dresses, and one ball gown by tomorrow.  Surely, you have something you can adjust to Lacey’s measurements by then?” Margaret demanded, as if she were requesting a pair of prefabricated Levis instead of the original creations that could only be called art.

Mimi didn’t answer immediately, mumbling her need for extra seamstresses, the availability of cornsilk blue satin -- perfectly matching Lacey’s eyes -- and did she dare use ostrich feathers around the bustline to enhance the effect?  “Yes, yes, of course,” she said deep in thought, already visualizing dresses for her new client.  She had never been given free reign before, and intended to use every fresh idea she possessed with this delightful creature.

Before leaving, Lacey whispered quiet instructions to Mimi.  Her head bobbed; the pencil making fresh marks along the page containing her notes.  She laughed again, nodding in approval.  “Leave it to me Lady Lacey.  I believe I understand what you want.”

Margaret and Amy looked dumbfounded, but left their questions unasked when Lacey simply said, “You’ll see.”

After visits to the dressmaker, milliner, and cobbler, the trio returned to the Byington Estate, exhausted but invigorated as only women feel after a full day of shopping.  Tea was served in Margaret’s private sitting room, allowing the three to plan for tomorrow’s introduction to the family.  Margaret and Amy easily explained Lacey’s arrival as a family member in need of a match.  In all, nobody expected to see her until the morrow; it gave ample time for the three to iron out details of her hurried arrival.

The next morning dawned sooner than Lacey expected.   A maid entered the room on tiptoe to prepare a fire for the hearth.  Feeling chilly, she welcomed the warmth, and lay in bed anticipating the day.

Another maid arrived shortly thereafter.  “Good morning, Lady Lacey.  I have been assigned as your Lady’s Maid; I am Jane.”  

“This is all a little new to me, Jane.  I’ll need help with everything.”  Lacey felt it necessary to justify her lack of knowledge.  

Jane was friendly, idly chitchatting about trivial gossip.  Like the others, she appeared shocked when Lacey undressed, but soon outfitted her in the dress Mimi provided in the wee hours of the night.  Her lady’s maid seemed pleased when Lacey stood back for approval.

Her hair was artfully arranged with intricate knots and curls, soft pieces cascading over creamy shoulders for effect.  The lavender dress was simple, minus many frills she saw on other women’s gowns.  The simplicity of the day dress accentuated her tiny waist with a thick white satin ribbon.  The whalebone corset was impossible, but Jane took pity on her, lacing it looser than customary.  

“Miss?  I’m unsure what to do with this?” Jane held a miniature version of Lacey’s dress fashioned as a cape.  Ties were fastened around the tiny item, similar to the white satin around her waist.

“No worries, Jane.  I know what to do with it.”  Lacey took the garment from her outstretched hands.  She signaled for Zebediah, who scrambled to the bed; he landed in a heap on the duvet.  She fastened the cape around his midsection, crooning softly.  “My, aren’t we a fine looking pair Zebby?”  

She stood back to admire the needlework, and smiled at the desired effect.  A tap sounded on the door and Amy entered in a whirlwind.  “Ready?”  She examined Lacey critically, nodded to Jane, and glanced down at Zebediah.  He wagged his tail, seemingly pleased with his new digs.  “I’ve never seen anything like that.”  She laughed and held the door open for the two.

Amy led Lacey down the stairs, Zebediah fast on their heels.  She gave last minute instructions during the two minute walk to the dining hall.  “There’s nothing to worry about.  Everybody believes you are family, which is more introduction than most people receive.  When in doubt, remain quiet and follow my lead.”  

They entered the dining room; two people occupied the formal table.  The accompanying sideboard was filled with silver laden dishes while servants stood along the wall awaiting instruction.  A newspaper masked one occupant, and the other, Margaret, was deep in discussion with one of the servants.  

“Good morning.  Where are the boys?” Amy asked, glancing about the room as if they hid.

“The boys were complaining of growing pains.  And, since you were upstairs, Sarah decided to mix up a concoction for them.”  Margaret was clearly exasperated.

Amy groaned.  “Oh no, what happened?”

“Well, the boys now have more than growing pains,” Margaret replied with deep sarcasm, some inside joke evident to Lacey.

“Truly, Amy.  Until our daughter learns the use of herbs properly, she must be curtailed.”  A short, squat man rose from the table as they approached.  “Ah, this must be our guest.  I am Edward, it is a pleasure to meet you.”  He never made eye contact, all his attention focused on the newspaper he held to one side.  He mumbled something about ‘that damn Napolean’ before snapping the paper shut and setting it to the side of his plate.

Edward was unexpected, not the kind of man Lacey pictured with her cousin many generations removed.  He stood several inches shorter than his wife, and lacked social graces.  While he was polite, and dressed in a manner expected of one in his position, Lacey felt he would be more at ease in a room full of gentleman.

“Lacey, this is my husband, the Earl of Scarborough,” Amy said distracted, obviously thinking of Sarah’s accidental administration.  “Edward, do have a word with Sarah if you feel you can make a difference.  I have tried and tried.”

Lacey took the seat a manservant held for her.  She noted his obvious disapproval of Zebediah, who sat to one side, ready for his breakfast.  Ignoring his offended look, a plate appeared in front of her.  Lacey finished her meal quietly, remembering Amy’s advice.  Periodically, she passed stolen bites to Zebediah—an attempt to keep him placated.

After breakfast they hustled into the sitting room for salon hours.  Grand double doors were propped open and people steadily streamed through the door, announced with an air of dignity by the butler.  Gossip from the neighboring estates was passed about, unrecognized names and events melding together.  Introductions were made so often, Lacey found herself lost in a sea of names and titles.  After what seemed interminably long, Lacey noted a woman similar in age seated to the side, looking noticeably uncomfortable.  She idled toward her, feeling equally out of place.

“I’m Lacey.”

The young woman never looked up, and stared down; she appeared horribly shy.  She almost whispered her response, “Hello.  My name is Desiree Ashley.”  

Desiree was a pretty girl if one could see past her spots.  Acne masked an otherwise attractive face.  Her chestnut hair was arranged in a coif, with tiny tendrils spilling from the neat bun.  Her obvious discomfort was reflected in her confidence.

Lacey saw Desiree glancing furtively at a young man standing with her aunt and cousin.  “He’s a good looking guy,” Lacey said, trying to break the ice.

Horror struck Desiree’s features and she looked directly at Lacey.  “I..I wasn’t looking at him.  A girl like you would have no problem with him, but I…”  Her meaning was quite clear.

“Oh c’mon, what’re you talking about?  You’re gorgeous.  Just go over there and talk to him.” Lacey winked conspiratorially.  “You’ll get nowhere sitting in this corner.”  

“I could never do that,” she began, unconsciously touching her face.

Lacey stood.  “Follow me, I have an idea.”  She started for the door, and glanced back to see if Desiree followed.  Satisfied, they headed for Lacey’s bedroom, Zebediah marching in their wake.

Lacey rang for Jane as soon as they arrived.  Her maid appeared moment’s later, and curtsied.  “Yes, miss?”

“Jane, please get me a jar, or something I can fill with a gift I’m going to send home with my new friend, Desiree.”

Desiree looked surprised to hear Lacey’s description of their relationship, but sat quietly on the rocking chair in the corner of the room.  When Jane left, Lacey walked behind the divider where she had secreted her Fendi bag earlier.

“You know, I used to have a problem with my skin, as well,” Lacey hesitated, she didn’t want to offend her quiet companion.  “But, a friend of my mother’s mixed this solution for me and they disappeared within a couple of weeks.”  

Desiree looked hopeful.  “But you haven’t a spot.”  

“Yes, and it’s all because of this.  Now, every morning and evening, I want you to wash your face with this.  Mix it with warm water and scrub vigorously.  Within two weeks, you’ll see an incredible difference.”

Jane returned with the requested item, and Lacey filled it with the acne medication.  “Use only a little bit each time.  We don’t have a lot.  If it works, we’ll find a way to make more.”

Lacey handed the gift to Desiree and saw tears spring to her eyes.  “Thank you.  Thank you so much.”

“Well, don’t thank me until we see if it works.  And, then we’ll work on this beau you have a fancy for,” she smiled, putting Desiree more at ease.

The girls returned to the sitting room in time for everyone’s departure.  Lacey stood to Margaret’s right holding Zebby.  All the girls seemed standoffish and their mother’s disapproving as they made their farewells.  Desiree touched Lacey’s arm, a silent expression of her appreciation for the gift, and left with her mother whispering animated questions in her ear.

After lunch, Lacey was given the rest of the afternoon to explore.  She settled on the outdoors, since the interior of the home was just a newer version of everything she’d known from childhood.  The gardens were magnificent, proving everything modern wasn’t necessarily best.  She delighted in a maze she found in the center of the rambling gardens; bushes created a private haven for the walker.  She strolled through the pathways and periodically tossed a stick for Zebby to chase.  It gave him a little needed exercise.

‘Zebby isn’t the only one who needs a run,’ she thought, feeling the constricture of the undergarments from the two heavy meals she’d consumed.  ‘If I keep eating like this with no exercise, I’ll be as large as Desiree’s dear mama.’  She longed for running shoes and a decent pair of shorts, thinking how perfect the maze would be for a good jog.

She reached the heart of the attraction and found a large fountain, dedicated to the mystery of the sea.  A life-size mermaid lounged every three to four feet, spouting water through cupped hands; the spray was directed toward a large merman in the center.  The centerpiece, King Midas, held a staff in overlarge hands, creating a waterfall from the center of his magical stick.  An idea took root, and Lacey smiled; she loved the quickly formulated plan.  

She spent the afternoon in Amy and Sarah’s workroom.  There, Sarah learned the art of herbs from her healing mother.   Amy was patient with Sarah, teaching her the proper way to dry and chop the plants.  The result would be used in her mixtures to assist the ill.  

“No, Sarah.  Rosemary isn’t used for that purpose, dear.  If you mix it with that powder, you will create nothing more than a substance sure to torture your patient.”  Amy took the odiferous plant from Sarah, laying it to the side.

“Actually, Rosemary is good to boil in water for people with asthma.”  Lacey remembered the mentholatum scent of the mixture her mother used for her brother’s childhood ailment.

“Asthma?” Amy asked, curiosity stamped across her features.

“You know, children who wheeze…can’t catch their breathe?” Lacey was on uncertain ground, having always deferred to her mother’s knowledge of healing.

“Ah, yes.” Amy looked thoughtful.

“Which reminds me, what do you use for pimples today?” Lacey remembered Desiree’s condition.

Amy continued pampering the plants she’d been slicing to dry.  “Pimples?  Lacey you haven’t a spot on your face.  Why this interest in plants and their cures?”

Lacey quickly explained her new friend’s dilemma, and Amy’s face lit.  “Well, we haven’t really found anything useful for her problem.  But, most do well with simply washing their faces, keeping it free of oil and dirt.”

Always curious, Lacey remembered reading the content of her face wash.  She asked Amy and Sarah if they knew any items in the formula.  “I don’t recognize many of those ingredients, but some I know.  Perhaps I could mix something up, and we could try it?”  

Pleased, Lacey nodded.

“Edward will be having guests this evening.  Neighbors are coming for dinner tonight, so the men can discuss business later.  You will want to take particular care with preparation this evening, as there will be many influential people here tonight,”

Lacey nodded.  She left the workroom and headed for her bedroom.  She wanted to take extra care, since she had no idea how long it would take to get ready.

When she entered her bedchamber, she found Jane rummaging through her suitcase.  Jane looked up, many questions stamped across her freckled complexion.  Lacey was at a loss; she had no idea how to explain deodorant, birth control pills, or the other mysteries found in the depths of the bag.

“Miss?  I am unsure where to store many of these things.  I don’t recognize their use?”  Jane held a pale blue aerosol can.  “Like this.  What kind of ‘Secret’ does it hold?”

Lacey chuckled.  “Where I come from, these are quite useful, Jane.  Store them in my closet, and I’ll show you their use as we need them,” she improvised.  Deciding nonchalance was her best avenue, she added, “And could you have a bath prepared?  I took a long walk after lunch, and think I may want to freshen up for our guests this evening.”

Jane busied herself with the new task after storing the unknown items in Lacey’s closet.  Soon, Lacey luxuriated in the tub, delivered shortly after her request.  She made quick use of the razor, shampoo, and conditioner she thankfully brought with her.  Jane took delight in the texture and scent of the proffered items, needing no more explanation once shown their purpose.  When Lacey began to shave her legs, Jane gasped.

“W-what are you d-doing?” she asked, staring round-eyed at the plastic device.

“I’m shaving my legs.  You know, removing the hair,” Lacey said, focusing on the task before her.  

Jane lounged on the stool next to the tub, watching Lacey as if she were performing surgery.  She seemed fascinated.  “May I?” she asked, staring at Lacey’s hair-free appendage.  

“Sure.”

Jane reluctantly touched Lacey’s leg where the razor had most recently been.  “Oh my,” was all she could say.

After descending the tub, she used the Bath and Body Works lotion.  Cucumber melon had always been Lacey’s favorite, and she delighted in the clean smell, compared to the odiferous body odors she discovered that afternoon during salon hours.  Jane walked silently through the room, busying herself with unknown tasks, periodically sniffing the room loudly, and sighing in content.  

Lacey brushed her long hair, and said without thought, “I need a hairdryer.”

Jane looked stymied.  “What is a hair dryer?”

‘Oops,’ Lacey didn’t know how to handle this one.  “I mean, I need to dry my hair.”

Jane smiled and led her to the fireplace.  She assisted Lacey to a short bench by the hearth, and used a towel to extract the additional moisture.  Once done, she brushed her hair, slowly, lifting heavy tendrils toward the fire.

‘I could get used to this,” Lacey thought, closing her eyes and basking in the attention.

Lacey woke to gentle nudging, “Miss, it’s time to finish.”

She opened her eyes and touched her hair.  It felt wonderful, soft and silky; her hair enjoyed the attention it received, minus modern day contraptions.  She sat before the dressing table, and watched the mirror; Jane heated an iron stick, curling masses of hair with concentrated effort.  When she finished the tedious task, she lifted the curls, and pinned them in a design known only to Jane.  The effect was stunning.  Lacey didn’t know why women ever stopped wearing their hair in these intricate and unique designs.  She felt like Barbie, getting ready for Prom.

Next, she dressed in a gown that took her breathe away.  She turned this way and that, as Jane laced her into the beautiful pastel pink toile.  The final effect made Lacey feel like a princess.  She examined herself in the mirror.  Thank goodness she had the tattoo eyeliner done.  Women used no makeup in this century, nothing to enhance their features.  But, this had been done so tastefully, nobody knew the shading had been added to her eyes, and wasn’t something she’d been born with.  

She took an inventory of items she brought with her, and realized she had no lip gloss.  ‘I need some moisture,’ she thought.

“Jane, do you have any oil?  Something I can dab on my lips so they aren’t chapped?”

Jane never heard this request before and struggled for just a moment.  “Whale oil?” she asked, wanting to please her new mistress.

Lacey wasn’t sure how it would look, but didn’t feel complete without something to add shine.  “Whale oil it is,” she nodded to Jane.

Jane stepped to one of the lamps, lifting the wick and dipping her finger in the content.  She walked to Lacey, holding out her finger, not really sure what to do with the proffered item.

Lacey smeared her finger across Jane’s, and approved the texture.  ‘This will work,’ she thought, and lightly applied the oil across her lips.  It gave the look she was after.

“Oh,” Jane said, understanding lighting her face.  Jane gathered her courage and asked, “Miss.  Do you mind if I ask a question?”

“Fire away.”  Lacey said the first thing coming naturally.

Jane looked dumbfounded, but opted to ignore her mistresses odd manner of speech. “Your fingernails, Miss.  What did you paint them with?”

Lacey looked down at her perfectly manicured tips.  She’d always grown them naturally, preferring a shorter style to the nailtips so popular in her time.  She laughed.

“Where I come from, we paint them.  This is called a french manicure.  I’m assuming that’s not done here?”

“No,” Jane appeared embarrassed.  “But, they look lovely.  Could you show me how to do that?” she asked hesitantly.

Lacey laughed.  “Absolutely, it’s really quite simple.  Tomorrow, I’ll show you all the joys of a manicure,” she said, and left a list of items for Jane to procure for tomorrow’s lesson on painting one’s nails.

Before embarking on her first 19th century dinner party, Lacey sprayed a light mist of Chanel across her neck and wrists.  She enjoyed the luxury of her favorite perfume.  

When Lacey entered the drawing room, she found the full house she expected earlier.  Men were dressed in evening attire, lending a glamorous air to the room.  The women stood to one side, nestled together, enjoying a tete-a-tete before dinner.  The gentlemen stood in small groups, laughing over unknown jokes, sipping from small glasses.

Lacey was unsure how to proceed.  She saw many people glancing her way; they knew the protocol.  Margaret saved her from breaking any rules by joining her and leading her to the safety of the women’s group.  She was pleased to see Desiree in the crowd, and headed for the familiar face.

“Desiree, how good to see you again.  I didn’t realize you’d be with us tonight.”

Desiree had a more confident air this evening, and was actually interacting with the ladies.  She smiled, and if Lacey were correct, she could already see a noticeable difference from just an application.  “I see you used it.”

Jane nodded.  “Where’s your little furry friend this evening?  He made quite a stir earlier today.”  

“Ha, he’s taking a much needed nap from the day’s entertainment.  He’ll probably wake later and be angry I didn’t bring him along.”

Jane joined comfortably in her friend’s laughter.  “I’ve heard tell many women went home and instantly called on Mimi.  They want little matching outfits designed for their furry companions.  The problem is nobody seems to know where you found a dog so compact.  Most are great beasts and used for hunting.”

Realizing her latest goof, Lacey said the first excuse coming to mind.  “Oh, I think I just got lucky.  He was the runt of a litter.”

Jane accepted Lacey’s quick explanation, and changed the subject.  “Lacey, that solution truly is a miracle.  I actually used it twice today, and I swear I can already see a difference.”

Lacey was pleased with Desiree’s reaction.  “I’m glad.”

Desiree leaned forward conspiratorially.  “I’ve noticed something else you seem to have affected on the ladies in our midst.”

“Oh?”

“Just look about the room.”

Lacey scanned the crowd, looking for some unknown theme.  She saw many faces from the afternoon gathering.  Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but the more she looked, something did seem askew.  She glanced questioningly at Jane.

“Look at their…figures.” Jane hesitated over the last word.

Lacey slowly eyed the women again—more critical this time.  Suddenly, it struck her.

“Oh my!”  She actually giggled.  Had she ever giggled in her life?

Desiree joined Lacey’s mirth as they looked over the girl’s bosoms.  Some appeared a tad lopsided, while others were more generous—much more generous.

“And I thought the 50’s invented padded bras,” Lacey said, linking arms with her comrade.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh nevermind.  This is funny, though, isn’t it?”  Lacey enjoyed the inside joke.

“You seem to have created another kind of stir, as well,” Desiree motioned to the group of gentleman.

Lacey glanced in the direction of Desiree’s gaze, and saw men staring their way.  One in particular stood out; he stared unblinking, with an air of superiority.  They made eye contact, and he tipped his head.

“Who is that?”

Desiree leaned forward and whispered, “That’s the most sought after man of the last three seasons.  He has a horrid reputation for being a lady chaser, but he is ever good looking, hmm?”

Lacey continued staring.  The man in question had broad shoulders tapering down to a small waist.  He was taller than the other men in the room—long, firm legs, indicative of an active lifestyle.  His hair was dark, almost black, with a wind tousled look; his skin tanner than the rest, accentuating the crisp whiteness of his dress shirt.

This man looked as if he’d never heard ‘no’ in his life.  Lacey never really found herself attracted to the macho lady killer type, preferring intellect to striking good looks.  Confidence was one thing, but assuming the world was yours simply because you had overwhelming good looks, was another.  But, he had been gifted with the largest dose of masculinity in a well-defined package she had ever seen.

“Dinnah is served,” broke Lacey’s assessment of the prima donna.  She allowed Desiree to lead the way, stopping as they joined the men.

She watched the crowd; men offered an arm to the ladies, taking them into dinner.  She noticed how the object of her perusal stood back, waiting for the others to go before him.  When she realized the purpose for his delay, it was too late.  He stepped forward, just as she joined the group, and offered his arm.

“I haven’t seen you amongst our numbers before,” he said in a deep, almost hypnotic voice.  

Lacey laid her hand delicately across his arm, joining in his practiced step toward the dining room.  “Margaret is my Aunt.  I’m with them for the Season.”  She used the pre-fabricated excuse they practiced earlier.

The unknown stranger led Lacey to a chair with her name emblazoned across a linen placard.   “How did you know my name?” she asked curiously.

He smiled, made a deep bow, and walked to another chair, obviously sporting his own.  Before Lacey had time to think about the exchange, she was seated.  She looked around and saw the company had been arranged in a boy-girl seating pattern.  

The older gentleman to her right spoke before she had the opportunity to get her bearings.  “Good evening, my dear.  I couldn’t help noticing your perfume.  Do tell, where did you find that heavenly scent?”  The man appeared in his 40’s, balding, with a bulbous red nose he constantly dabbed with a hankerchief.  His eyes were kind, though, and she was flattered with the compliment.

“Why, thank you.  It’s a gift from my father before coming to my Aunt’s home.”  

“Nice, very nice,” he said, sniffling the air loudly and turning to observe pleasantries in the opposite direction.  Before mimicking his manners, she glanced at his name plate.  Geoffrey Von Chanelski.  Interesting.

Dinner involved two hours of formalities; plate after plate was introduced to Lacey, giving a whole new meaning to a formal dinner.  Lacey took care to sample small portions; the whalebone corset barely left room for more.  The dinner partner on her left coincidentally was the fellow Desiree stared yearningly after earlier in the day.  ‘Oh, this will be fun,’ Lacey’s matchmaking tendencies thrown into overdrive.

The fellow in question was shy like Desiree and she noticed his eyes wandering to her friend throughout the meal.  Lacey probed and learned James Meredith was the second son of a local land baron, already given a small home on the family estate.  He was definitely on the market for a wife, if she interpreted his conversation correctly, and seemed quite pleased with his idea of a ‘small home.’ The 8-bedroom estate accompanying 600 acres certainly was no modern day’s version of tiny.

After dinner, the gentleman retired to parts unknown.  Later, Lacey learned they headed for the sanctuary of the library to enjoy cigars and port.  The ladies went to the sitting room to enjoy a cozy conversation around the fire.  Gossip and laughter flowed by the glow of the candlelit room; candles tapered to tiny nubs before the evening ended with many guests retiring upstairs, others opting for the comfort of their own home.

By all rights, Lacey should have been exhausted.  But the stimulating day fascinated her curious nature, and she was restless.  She decided to go in search of Jane; she required a few items for the next day.  

Lacey stumbled through the floorplan of her old home, finding walls where doorways had been in her youth, and doors that previously had never existed.  After a few wrong turns, she found the kitchen and walked into a conversation already in progress.

“And she has the most wonderful smelling things to bathe with.”  Lacey recognized the voice at once.  She felt almost like a voyeur, but didn’t want to barge in on Jane’s time with her co-horts.

“She even scrapes the hair from her legs, leaving them soft and smooth.  Do you think we could convince cook to let us have a few of her razors?” Jane asked, obviously wanting to adopt the unusual habit.

Lacey chuckled, backed up a few steps, and made a point of making a ruckus before stepping into the light.  “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but wondered if I might have a quick word with Jane.”

Jumping at her mistresses’ entrance, Jane instantly joined her.  After a few whispered instructions, Jane looked baffled, but said, “Yes, Miss.  I’ll have them for you in the morning.”

Lacey turned to go, and left one final instruction.  “Jane, do you think you could place them in my room before you go to bed this evening?  I tend to be an early riser.”  With that, she left, leaving the rest of the room to wonder what mistress and servant had discussed.

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